


The Assassin

by LuminousGloom



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Adventure & Romance, Alternate Universe - Magic, Alternate Universe - Tattoo Parlor, Anal Sex, Casual Sex, Crime AU, Crimes & Criminals, Falling In Love, Friendship/Love, Getting Together, M/M, Magical Alternate Universe, Magical Tattoos, Moving Tattoo(s), Murder, Murder Mystery, Oral Sex, Romance, Sailor Sirius Black, Sex, Smut, Tattooist Remus Lupin, Tattoos, Wizards, tattoo parlour
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-26
Updated: 2021-02-07
Packaged: 2021-03-18 12:15:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,115
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28992036
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LuminousGloom/pseuds/LuminousGloom
Summary: A handsome stranger appears at closing time, asking for a tattoo. Consummate professional that he is, of course tattooist Remus can't resist. Only there's a lot more to Remus' business than this stranger can possibly know...
Relationships: Sirius Black/Remus Lupin
Comments: 21
Kudos: 37





	1. A new assignment

**Author's Note:**

  * For [bshiat](https://archiveofourown.org/users/bshiat/gifts), [shaggydogstail](https://archiveofourown.org/users/shaggydogstail/gifts).



> for bshiat and shaggydogstail, who came up with the idea - though it's taken me so long to write that you probably can't even remember it now!
> 
> Thanks again G & N for beta reading, any remaining errors are mine.

‘There you go,’ Remus says, ‘all done.’ 

As he dismantles the two quills, carefully placing the used needles and tubes in the designated sharps bin, the client wanders over to the full length mirror and admires his freshly adorned thigh.

‘Oh wow!’ he laughs breathlessly, staring at it, turning and posing in the mirror. ‘Absolutely brilliant! You’re a genius. It’s fantastic.’ 

‘Thank you,’ Remus says gruffly. Thinking of the fat envelope Macnair is going to have ready for him, he manages a smile. 

He casts the Antiseptic Charm over his handiwork and hands the man the small phial of Healing Potion, explaining when and how often to apply it. Not that it’ll make any difference in his case – the special ink will have fulfilled its deadly purpose in a matter of days. But it’s part of the process, part of the experience. As is accepting the client’s money. After all, you can’t take it with you, Remus tells himself as he pockets the fistful of galleons.

Once the client has left, Remus tries not to think about anything as he tidies up, methodically casting the various Scouring and Disinfectant Charms. It’s already getting dark, and he’s dying for a drink. Perhaps he’ll go for just the one at his local, the Open Arms.

He jumps when he hears the door, and turns to find a tall, dark haired man standing in his shop. ‘Hi,’ the man says. He’s pale, with striking features. ‘You’re not about to close, are you?’

‘I’m afraid so.’ Remus furrows his brows. 

‘Ah.’ The man cracks a rakish grin, apparently undeterred. ‘I’m looking for one Remus Lupin.’ 

‘You’ve found him.’ Remus takes in the widow’s peak, the elegant face, the lively eyes. The man’s casual attire doesn’t give anything away, but he looks familiar. Surely Remus would’ve remembered a Muggle copper or an Auror this fit? Remus clears his throat. ‘Haven’t we met before?’ 

‘Nah,’ Sirius says lightly. ‘Shouldn’t think so. I’ve been away at sea for the past two years.’ Flashing an even brighter smile, he adds, ‘And, frankly, I would’ve remembered. Nice to meet you. I’m Sirius.’

Remus shakes the proffered hand, choosing to ignore the compliment. He’s not keen on charmers who think they’re god’s gift and will lay it on thick, expecting anyone to be flattered. The name doesn’t ring a bell, but he’s almost sure he’s seen the face before - these days Remus makes a point of remembering faces. Then it dawns on him. ‘Didn’t you come in for a consultation? With another bloke... blond, I think? A bloke who wanted a snake and a skull on his forearm, a bit like a–’

‘Like a Dark Mark?’ Sirius interrupts him, looking appalled. ‘Oh.’ He hesitates. ‘Don’t tell me. Was this other bloke big, pasty skin, sort of doughy looking? Long hair, the colour of snot?’ 

Remus’ lips twitch. ‘Yeah, I suppose…’ 

‘Right. That would’ve been my brother’s odious friend - and my brother, they say we look alike.’ Even scowling indignantly, Sirius is ridiculously handsome. ‘Didn’t realise they had it in them, much too wet to be getting inked.’ 

‘I’m not sure they actually did go through with it,’ Remus hears himself saying. ‘Never saw them again, but anyway it wasn’t me who did the consultation...’ His voice trails off. He’s feeling increasingly self conscious under this gorgeous man’s gaze. ‘How can I help you?’ He asks at last.

‘Very straightforward,’ Sirius says. ‘I’d like a tattoo, please.’

‘Right.’ Remus can’t help smiling. ‘I’m afraid I don’t do walk-ins. And my books are closed until further notice.’ But he wonders if he means it, even as he says it. He wouldn’t mind spending a couple of hours with this man, working on his smooth skin. Touching him, feeling him tremble and squirm. Perhaps he’ll make an exception. ‘What did you have in mind?’

‘One of your moving ones, ideally. I’d really love a Hebridean Black, on my back. Which is an elaborate job, I know, so I was thinking, perhaps just a Shrake for now? Here.’ Sirius pats the top of his thigh. ‘Wrestling a merman maybe, Muggle style?’

Remus grins at his sincere expression. Why not, he thinks. ‘Tell you what,’ he says, ‘Come back a bit later in the week - Thursday? Send me an owl. I might be able to fit you in.’

‘Brilliant,’ Sirius beams. ‘Cheers. I’ll see you then.’

\---

As ever, he’s dreading the meeting. Macnair is such a nasty piece of work. 

‘Well done on the last one. Have you seen the Prophet? They seem to think it’s a disease.’ He shoves a fat brown envelope across the table. 

Remus pockets it quickly. ‘You do know they’ll work it out eventually.’

Macnair shrugs. ‘Not for a while they won’t. You might want to mix it up a bit, alter your method, make it more difficult to crack.’ 

‘Or perhaps we should take a break.’ 

Macnair snorts. ‘If only you had that luxury,’ he says in a nasty sing-song. With pointed fingers he pulls a photograph from his inside coat pocket and drops it on the table, as though it were some foul thing. ‘Your next job. Nosy fucker, this one, been causing us no end of trouble. Speedy, is what they’ve asked for. Not one of those drawn out, month-long projects.’ 

‘Right.’ With a resigned sigh Remus slides the photograph closer and turns it face up. He manages to swallow his shocked gasp. ‘Right,’ he says again, struggling to keep his voice even. ‘No - no problem. I’ll do it this week.’ 

‘Excellent!’ Macnair smirks. ‘Don’t hang about. There’s a lot of strong feeling about this one.’

Remus nods grimly. Thrusting his hands into his jacket pockets, he squeezes the fat envelope for reassurance. 

\---

Later that night, alone in his flat, Remus catches up on boring paperwork. He’s treated himself to a brand new record, the eagerly awaited second album by Kissing Inferi, and nodding along to the driving beat he finds himself pulling out that photograph again and again. Perhaps he keeps hoping it’ll be someone different, that he’s made a mistake. But the snapshot clearly shows the bloke from the shop, Sirius Black, captured in an unguarded moment – narrowed eyes staring into the distance, hair tangling in the wind. Judging by the crisp white shirt collar and the dark lapels, he’s wearing something like a formal Muggle suit, and it suits him no end.

What can he have done? Remus wonders. He must have been involved in nefarious activities of some sort even to have attracted Macnair’s clients’ attention. Remus doesn’t usually bother finding out whom exactly he’s been instructed to - work on. Whenever he’s come across notices in the paper mentioning their unexpected demise, they’ve turned out to have been gangland criminals, wanted for all sorts of terrible deeds.

Which always comes as a relief - not that Remus isn’t an expert at pushing aside any moral qualms. He can’t afford any. As criminals go, Macnair and his lot are probably worse, but unfortunately they have got him over a barrel. So he’s done it, every time. All his life, Remus has had to restrain himself so he wouldn’t harm innocent people. Now guilty people come into his shop voluntarily, and he does their bidding, just choosing to use a bespoke ink he’s prepared for them in advance. Better not think about it too much.

The charming young man in this photograph is going to be his seventh. But he’s nothing like the others, Remus thinks. He didn’t have that restless, self-satisfied air about him that all the previous ones had in common. From what Remus remembers of them, Sirius’ brother and his slimy friend had seemed far more likely candidates.

But who knows? Perhaps this Sirius character is more evil than any of them. With a sigh, Remus slips the picture back into his pocket.

\---

‘Have you seen this man? Or this one?’ The weary Muggle copper who introduced himself as DS Flint holds up a couple of photographs. Two bullish looking men stare out of them, their grim features strangely frozen in time. 

Nodding slowly, Remus swallows. ‘What is this about?’

‘Just a routine enquiry. Did they come here?’

Remus points at each picture in turn. ‘Large lizard on his calf, floral design as part of a sleeve. Is there a problem? They seemed happy enough…’ 

DS Flint makes a face. ‘I’m afraid they’re no longer around to enjoy your work.’ 

‘Oh.’ Remus acts adequately taken aback. ‘What happened?’

‘That’s what we’re trying to establish. Can you tell me when you last saw them?’

‘Yes, of course.’ Leafing through his appointment book, Remus murmurs a little incantation, furtively passing his hand over one of the entries to change the date. ‘Here.’ He shoves the open book across the counter, indicating the relevant entries on different pages. 

Studying the book, DS Flint jots a few things into his little notepad. Then he wanders around the shop, asking general questions in that annoying, suggestive tone some Aurors like to use, too. He wants to know about appointments, walk-ins, in what sort of demand Remus is to justify a long waiting list. Naturally he demands to see hygiene certificates. Coming to a stop, he gazes at the flash art displayed amongst anatomical and botanical prints in an assortment of frames. ‘I’ve got a couple of tatts a bit like that,’ he says. ‘Always wanted another one.’ 

‘Well,’ Remus suggests modestly, ‘if it’s something small you’re after, I could probably...’ Go on, you know you want to, he adds in his thoughts. 

‘Now?’ DS Flint hesitates.

Remus makes a show of glancing at a small clock. ‘Yes. Any of those,’ he nods at the flash, ‘should be fine, just about.’

He doesn’t push him. Then, looking thrilled, the copper agrees.

‘Right,’ Remus smiles at him, and gets out a particular set of inks. Once they take effect, DS Flint will be so carefree and jovial he won’t trouble himself or anyone else very much. 

\---

‘Still not sleeping any better?’ Lily asks, passing Remus a full pint. ‘No offence, but you look like death warmed up.’

‘Cheers,’ Remus says darkly. 

James scrutinises him with narrowed eyes. ‘It’s been almost a week, hasn’t it? Since the full moon.’

Remus glowers at his beer. ‘Nothing to do with that, not that it’s any of your business.’ He knows he’s being unkind, but he hates them going on and on about his lycanthropy.

‘Perhaps you should consider registering with the Ministry after all,’ James ventures. ‘At least they’ll - you know, look after you properly.’

Remus snorts. ‘As if. Have you been talking to Dumbledore again? I dunno why he’s convinced my job is ‘too unsavoury’ for me. He loved that portrait of Fawkes I did for him.’

James looks put out. ‘We’re just worried about you! You look terrible, you’re working all the time, you’re always in a foul mood…’

‘And after what happened to Marlene-’ Lily raises her eyebrows meaningfully.

Taking a deep breath, Remus unclenches his fists, and gulps down some of his drink. ‘I don’t need this!’ he says finally, struggling for a calm and measured tone. ‘I’m fine. I’m dealing with it all, aren’t I? I’m keeping her business running, the way she would’ve wanted, and trying my best to live up to her reputation. And believe it or not, so far it’s actually been going all right.’

‘But what if they come after you, too?’ James won’t let it go. 

Remus sighs. ‘We’ve been over this. Why would they? I’m no threat to anyone, I still haven’t the foggiest what Dark dealings she was involved in.’ He actually sounds convincing. ‘Not even Dorcas knows.’ Which is the truth. Remus has been seeing a lot of her, she still comes round at all hours, desperate to talk about Marlene, unable to comprehend why her lover would’ve just been snatched from her like that. ‘I’m of no interest to them. I’ll be fine.’

‘Are you though?’ James frowns. ‘What if-’ 

‘I don’t need saving, all right?’ Remus’ chair scrapes on the floor as he gets up sharply. Gripping his pint, he heads for the door, mumbling to himself, ‘It’s too late for that anyway.’

Outside, he swigs from his beer, scowling at the passing traffic. 

Then he notices the man standing just a couple of paces away, pint in hand and absent-mindedly sucking on a cigarette. Remus’ stomach swoops. Of course it had to be him, the fates have no mercy.

There he is, the bloke from the parlour yesterday, the bloke in Macnair’s photograph. Sirius Black, still looking ridiculously handsome. Remus stares, then hastily rearranges his expression. ‘All right?’ he asks casually. ‘Sirius, isn’t it? Mind if I bum a smoke?’

‘Oh,’ Sirius beams at him. ‘You! Twice in as many days. Lucky old me. Course you can.’ He rummages in his jacket pocket and offers him the packet. 

‘Cheers.’ As soon as Remus places the cigarette between his lips, Sirius leans in and lights it for him, a Charmed violet flame flickering between his thumb and forefinger. He smells very good.

‘Rough day?’ 

Remus shrugs, savouring a long drag, then suppresses the urge to cough. He doesn’t even smoke, not really. ‘Just – friends, sticking their oar in.’

Sirius nods gravely. ‘I’ve been stood up, if that makes you feel any better. By a friend,’ he hastens to add. ‘Pain in the arse, aren’t they?’

‘Friends? Yeah, the worst.’ Remus smiles. He’s feeling slightly queasy. ‘Actually, can I ask you something?’ 

‘Anything.’ Sirius grins.

‘Who told you about me? The shop, I mean?’

‘I’ve seen your work around. And a couple of blokes on the Cerberus – that’s my ship – told me about your parlour, and gave me the address. Those moving ones you do are incredible.’

‘Thank you. They are good.’ Remus sighs. ‘My boss did most of those. But unfortunately she’s - no longer around.’

‘Ah.’ Sirius looks at him curiously. ‘Sorry to hear that. But I bet yours are just as good?’

Remus exhales a puff of smoke. ‘Hers really were amazing. She’s taught me all I know.’ He swallows hard. ‘Speaking of which, if you still want that Shrake, I’ve had a cancellation, so I could fit you in.’ He smiles feebly. ‘Meaning that you might see me again tomorrow, if you play your cards right.’ It’s definitely easier to flirt when you know it’ll never go anywhere. 

‘Yes,’ Sirius beams. ‘I’d like that very much. What time do you want me?’

‘At noon? Come to the shop, we’ll have a couple of hours.’

‘Perfect.’ 

Grinning at each other, they take swigs of beer. 

‘So you’ve really been at sea for the past two years?’ 

‘Yeah! You didn’t think I’d made that up, did you?’ Sirius looks mildly affronted. 

‘Well, I wouldn’t blame you if you had. After all, everyone likes a sailor...’

‘Oh yeah?’ Sirius laughs. ‘Anyway, I would’ve thought you’d come across your fair share of sailors in your line of work?’

‘Not nearly enough,’ Remus says. ‘And it’s not you, it’s just that - people tell you all sorts. Some of them will let you into their innermost secrets, others just make it all up as they go along.’

‘Well, I wasn’t fibbing. Still only a midshipman, you know, but definitely the real thing. And awaiting my gold stripe.’ Sirius knocks back more of his beer. ‘I’ve got about another week’s worth of leave before I’m due back in Portsmouth. So if you’d like to make that sailor fantasy a reality…’ Grinning suggestively, he looks straight at Remus.

Feeling suddenly very hot, Remus fervently hopes he’s not blushing. ‘Now?’ He flicks his cigarette end into the gutter. ‘Why not,’ he says huskily, just as the pub door opens.

‘There you are!’ James admonishes him. ‘Lily thinks you’ve done a runner. But I knew you wouldn’t desert us - here, got you another...’ He nods a perfunctory greeting at Sirius. ‘All right? James.’ 

‘Sirius.’ Sirius grins, raising an expectant eyebrow at Remus. 

‘Listen,’ Remus begins awkwardly, and freezes. There’s a familiar looking figure across the road. One of Macnair’s lot. Lingering outside the ironmonger’s, pretending to be interested in the window display. Remus curses under his breath. ‘I - um - I’m really sorry, but I’ve got to go.’

‘Now?’ James frowns. ‘But I’ve only just got you a pint–’

‘Yeah. You have it,’ Remus addresses Sirius, squeezing his arm. ‘I really am sorry. I’ll see you later.’

——-

The thug marches him down a deserted backstreet that’s littered with rubbish and reeking of urine. ‘We heard you’ve had a visit from the filth,’ he says gruffly. ‘Just checking you’ve done the right thing.’

Remus nods. ‘I’ve sorted it. They shouldn’t cause any more problems.’ 

‘Sorted it?’ The thug barks. ‘Didn’t look that way to me.’

‘There are ways and ways.’ Remus rolls his eyes. ‘This way I’ve solved the problem without causing any more.’ 

The thug shoots him a withering look. ‘You’re too nice, that’s your problem. And as for the other one, get a move on, will you?’

Swallowing, Remus nods. ‘Yes. I’m already working on it.’ 

‘No shilly-shallying. You’ve understood your mission. We need him gone quick.’

\---


	2. Things heat up

Remus didn’t return to the pub. Taking a long, roundabout route home, he stopped for several drinks along the way in the vain hope they’d take the edge off. He did manage to sleep in the end, thanks to a potion, which always leaves him feeling frazzled the next day. And although he’s become an expert at staying calm and focused under pressure, this morning he’s anything but. It takes a conscious effort to keep a steady hand.

He’s just adding the detailing to an elaborate phoenix on a young witch’s shoulder. A delightfully serene customer with gorgeous dark skin as soft as butter, she’s barely flinched once since he’s started. It’s actually Remus who jumps when something thumps against the shop window.

Nevertheless, she looks relieved when he suggests a short break. Remus downs his tools, casts _Detergo_ and goes to investigate. It’s a green parakeet, trying to gain entry. Remus lets the bird in and offers it a snack of sunflower seeds on the window sill. Then he carefully unties the small roll of parchment attached to its foot. 

_Dear Remus,_ reads the elegantly scrawled message. _Sincere apologies, ended up getting a bit sloshed with Lily and James. I’m in no fit state this morning, but if you’re free tonight, please come to mine? I’d love to stand you dinner and everything, and we’ll get down to it then... You won’t regret it! Hopefully see you later - Yours, Sirius._

And below that, neatly printed, an address in Bloomsbury. 

Mumbling another disinfectant Charm, Remus pulls on a fresh pair of black latex gloves. He can’t help grinning to himself, almost light-headed with relief. 

‘Good news, then?’ The client smiles.

‘Something like that.’ With his heart still beating faster, he shakes his head and gets back to work, murmuring another Charm under his breath to steady his shaky hand. 

It’s only postponing the agony, he knows that. Nothing’s actually changed. He’s got to, and he will go through with it, he reminds himself, it’ll just be this evening now, rather than at noon.  
Anyway, Remus can’t have him hanging around, befriending James and Lily. Could get awkward for them, not to mention dangerous.

Nevertheless, he’s glad of a few hours’ respite. And, horribly, he’s actually feeling excited about the tone of the letter, and flattered by the attention. This Sirius character seems awfully keen. He can’t be for real. Can he?

When the client has left, he drinks a cup of sweet tea. Then he writes out the note he’s been carefully composing in his head. He rolls it up along with a drawing of a Shrake, his favourite of several he did last night, and sends the parakeet back on its way.

The reply is swift. _I love it. Let’s do it. See you at eight._

\---

Even in his careless Muggle attire – a faded t-shirt and dark trousers – Sirius looks effortlessly gorgeous, leaning in the door frame, grinning lasciviously.

‘Glad you could make it,’ he says. ‘And sorry about this morning. I don’t usually leave people in the lurch like that. I promise I’ll make it up to you.’ He gestures for Remus to come in. ‘Drink?’

‘N-not just yet, thanks.’ Feeling positively sick, Remus follows Sirius down the dim hall. They emerge into a spacious sitting room, all high ceilings, large windows and lots of pink evening light. ‘Nice place you’ve got here.’ There’s a jumble of modern and antique furniture, exotic plants, and expensive rugs. 

‘Cheers, it’s my uncle’s, actually.’

Shit. ‘He’s not here, is he? I mean…’ Remus can't have any witnesses.

‘Oh, he won’t mind at all,’ Sirius grins at his shocked expression. ‘He’s been dead for years. Even the paintings have been empty for yonks.’ He gestures at various faded, dark landscapes in gilt frames. ‘Been meaning to do something about the place really, but I’m never around for long enough… I thought we could, er, do it over there?’ Eyes dancing mischievously, he indicates a chaise longue upholstered in purple velvet.

Remus nods firmly. He’d better avoid eye contact, if he’s to hold on to his resolve. Of course he’s going through with it. He’ll remain his detached, cool, professional self. There is no other way.

‘Let me put on some music.’ While Sirius busies himself with the record player, Remus casts Sterilising Charms on the furniture and unpacks his kit. ‘So you do Muggle clients, too?’ Sirius asks with interest.

‘Sometimes. Using slightly different equipment, of course.’ Remus arranges his tools on the low glass table - two quills, needles, grips, ink caps, skin salve, paper towels, and a small, bent old butter knife. ‘They’re only aware of electrically powered machines, you know, rotaries and coils and cartridges and so on, so you can’t use quills. And keeping things sterile is a lot of work, without Charms. Stencils take a bit longer, too.’ He looks up sharply when the record starts. ‘That’s Kissing Inferi!’ he bursts out, adding ‘I love them!’ before he can stop himself. 

Sirius beams back at him, obviously pleased with himself. ‘That Jack Savage is a bit of all right, isn’t he?’ 

Remus nods, grinning. He’s had his own share of fantasies involving the tall black frontman with the striking eyes, who delivers his razor sharp lyrics with energy and precision. ‘I didn’t think they were all that well known yet,’ he mumbles vaguely.

‘Give them time.’ Still beaming, Sirius walks over and surveys the items Remus has laid out on the table. ‘I’ve only ever got Muggle tattoos before… your setup doesn’t look all that different.’ He’s so close, Remus can smell his woody aftershave. ‘Shall I get into position, then?’

‘Please,’ Remus says stiffly. He’s packed two bottles of ink. One of them is just ink. And he hasn’t poured either of them out yet.  
Sirius unbuckles his belt and strips out of his trousers, folding them neatly before setting them aside. 

A sailor, Remus remembers, and takes a deep breath. Glancing at his client’s lean, muscular legs, he picks up the stencil. ‘Where do you want it?’ 

They decide on the exact placement, towards the inside, halfway up Sirius’ right thigh. Tantalisingly close to the bulge in his snug black boxers. Sirius sits on the chaise longue, and Remus settles on the floor in front of him. On his knees, between the alluring man’s legs. Steady now, he thinks as he applies green soap and gently washes the area in question. You’re a bloody professional. Keeping his mind fiercely focused on the task ahead, he reaches for the Muggle razor. 

‘You don’t use a Charm for that?’ Sirius asks huskily.

‘It would interfere with the transfer. But don’t worry. This is all part of the service,’ Remus explains with a reassuring smile. ‘It’ll hardly hurt at all.’ 

‘Right.’ Sirius keeps very still, breathing deliberately slowly as Remus drags the razor along his thigh, following the gentle contours of supple muscle. Focus, Remus tells himself. A job like any other. Well, any other one of _those._

Already, the large, elegant hand resting on Sirius’ other thigh is starting to twitch and flex. And then Remus knows, senses without even looking, that the other man is getting hard.

Remus is used to this happening. Nothing personal, he knows, just nerves and excitement. Only this time he can’t pretend to himself that he’s unaffected. Nevertheless, he more or less calmly directs Sirius to stand, and placing the paper stencil against his freshly shaved skin he takes up his wand. With slightly parted lips, Sirius watches him cast the Charm, gasping at the tingling sensation of the magic as Remus smoothes and presses the stencil down. He pulls it away, revealing the bright violet transfer on Sirius’ thigh. With his last resolve, Remus shifts backwards and quickly gets to his feet. Sirius’ erection is impossible to ignore now, the outline of his cock perfectly visible through the straining fabric. 

‘Yesss,’ Sirius exhales audibly, admiring the artwork. ‘This is going to be amazing.’ 

‘Do you need a minute?’ Remus croaks.

Glancing at his lap, Sirius laughs a carefree laugh. ‘I bet this happens to you all the time.’

‘Not really.’ Remus clears his throat. Sod it, he thinks. ‘Do you, um - would you like a hand with that?’ 

‘Is that still part of the service?’ Still beaming, Sirius gets up, arching an eyebrow.

‘Not usually it isn’t.’ Remus extends his hand and places it firmly on Sirius’ crotch, grasping and rubbing the gloriously hard cock.

Half closing his eyes, Sirius lets out a low moan. Then he cups Remus’ face with both hands and kisses him hard.

The kiss turns into a long drawn out snog. Remus hasn’t kissed anyone quite like this in a very long time. 

Shame, Remus thinks vaguely, as Sirius moves against him and presses into him, that he’s going to be this man’s last shag. Then he decides to stop thinking altogether.

As he keeps stroking Sirius’ cock through the fabric, Sirius rapidly opens first Remus’ belt, then the front of his trousers. As he drops to his knees, Sirius pulls down Remus’ trousers and pants, and looking up at him flashes him a lusty grin. Remus gasps when he feels Sirius’ tongue on his cock, licking his shaft, his balls, lapping at the head. Finally, Sirius takes him deep into his wet, hot mouth. Remus moans. A sailor, he remembers deliriously.

Panting now, he tangles a hand in Sirius’ dark hair and pushes into his greedy mouth. This is so good. He can’t wait to fuck him. Sirius pulls back and releases him with a soft pop. Beaming up at Remus, he fondles his balls, before pressing hot kisses on Remus’ abdomen. He runs his hands over Remus’ buns, spreading and squeezing them, and turning Remus, he nips at them lustily. Then he smoothly gets to his feet, wrapping his arms around Remus from behind.

‘Did you like that?’ he asks huskily, kissing and nuzzling Remus’ neck. 

‘Yeah,’ Remus manages, arching back into Sirius, whose hands are on Remus’ chest, deftly unbuttoning his shirt, and whose hard prick is firmly pressing up against his bum. When Sirius discards his own boxers, the firm length of his cock wetly slides against Remus’ bum crack.

‘All right?’ Caressing Remus’ chest, he pulls his head back into a kiss. His long fingers slide deliciously down Remus’ sides before leisurely tugging on his straining cock. 

‘Fuck, yeah,’ Remus gasps and rolls his hips. This isn’t how he’d expected their shag to go, but a moment later he happily bends over the seat, bracing his forearms on the purple velvet. He sighs with delight when Sirius’ probing finger finds his pucker, at the liquid tingle of the lubrication charm. First one and then two fingers breach him easily, stroking in and out, before making way for the tip of Sirius’ cock. Sirius pushes into him with one long, powerful stroke. 

Moaning, Remus moves back into the next thrust, taking Sirius all the way. Sirius, too, lets out low, throaty sounds of pleasure as his cock pumps deep into Remus’ arse. Eagerly raising his hips to meet every thrust, Remus closes his eyes as Sirius starts fucking him in earnest. He loses himself in the fierce rhythm, while the antique chair creaks and sways under the onslaught. Sirius’ hand wraps around Remus’ cock again and starts pulling him off. It’s glorious, and then, startlingly quickly, Remus comes. He’s still catching his breath in surprise as Sirius continues to pound into him, burying his face in Remus’ neck, fucking him hard and fast until his last, deepest thrust, and a choked groan. 

When they come apart, Sirius kisses him again, a long, luscious snog. Remus usually prefers more of a no frills approach - to get down to it and then move on, rather than pretending a straightforward, anonymous fuck might be anything more than that. But he enjoys being affectionate with this man. It feels easy, not even like playacting - possibly because Remus knows it’ll never go anywhere.

Sirius helps him step out of his trousers, strips him of his shirt. ‘Wow!’ He runs his hand down Remus’ back, admiring the alchemical dragon that Marlene inked there last year. Then he takes Remus’ hand, and with a cheerful ‘Come on!’ leads him out of the room. As they pass the kitchen, he Summons two bottles of beer, catching them easily in one hand. 

‘Alcohol’s not a great idea, you know.’ Remus points out lamely. ‘Thins the blood.’

‘We’ll work it off,’ Sirius shrugs with a cheeky smile. The bedroom is opulently painted in bottle green and gold, and there’s a sumptuous rug on the dark floorboards, but it contains little in the way of furniture apart from an old fashioned travelling trunk and a large, carved bed. ‘Let’s get a bit more comfortable, and relax, shall we? Just for a bit...’ 

Remus stretches out next to him. Swigging from his beer, he feasts his eyes on Sirius’ naked body, casually lounging next to him, with those long, well-proportioned limbs and his magnificent chest. He’s not too hairy, with the sort of muscles that were honed in the real world. But Remus really ought to get himself together. Get this whole business over and done with, he thinks dutifully. But there’s no immediate hurry, is there?

To Remus’ ongoing surprise, Sirius can’t seem to stop looking either. Of course Remus wasn’t taken in by the bloke’s flattering comments for a second, but Sirius is acting as though he’s actually interested. He doesn’t keep his hands to himself, either. Tracing the long scars on Remus’ chest, skimming lower to the ugly welt of the bite above his hip. ‘You’re an adventurer, then?’ he asks, caressing the inked markings on Remus’ skin. ‘What are these all about?’

‘Practice, mainly,’ Remus says dismissively, gesturing at the random pictures and patterns on his thighs and forearms, various protective sigils, the two banks of clouds, based on an old etching, that float about his person at will. Sirius studies the lines of text near the bite. It’s an old rhyme, an obscure promise not to take anyone’s life. The irony. ‘These were done by various friends, and colleagues I admire,’ he vaguely points at the eclectic collection of imagery on his hips, his upper arms and chest. ‘And Marlene did this one.’ He indicates his elaborate back piece. ‘She was my former boss. Well, and a good friend, too.’

‘The one who’s no longer around,’ Sirius remembers solemnly. ‘It’s stunning. What happened to her?’

‘She had an accident,’ Remus says evasively. ‘It was all very sudden.’

‘Oh. That’s rough. I’m sorry.’ Sirius gives him a long look but doesn’t probe any further. ‘What about this one?’ he asks instead, running his thumb over the tall columns of numbers, faded and blurry now, on the inside of Remus’ forearm.

‘That’s the first tattoo I ever got. They’re just some dates I didn’t want to forget.’ Remus shrugs. 

‘Dates?’ Sirius studies them, intrigued. ‘And they change every year?’

‘How do you mean?’ Remus is genuinely surprised. Sirius can’t have seen this sort of thing before? Remus devised it himself, years ago. ‘It’s, er - just a personal thing.’

Raising an eyebrow, Sirius gives him a shrewd, conspiratorial smile. ‘Full moons, aren’t they?’

Remus is stunned. ‘Yeah.’ It just slips out. He swallows hard, his heart pounding in his chest. Is he making sure he’ll definitely have to kill Sirius? He might as well tell him the whole story then - not something he ever gets the chance to do. ‘It’s a reminder, so I’d never get caught off guard again.’ 

‘You forgot? About a full moon?’ Sirius asks, wide eyed. Bizarrely, he doesn’t recoil in horror or disgust, he doesn’t even flinch. ‘Must’ve been scary as hell.’

‘Only the once,’ Remus says stiffly. ‘Then I got this.’

‘How old were you when you were bitten?’ 

‘Almost six. The culprit is still at large.’ Remus takes a deep breath. ‘Sorry, it’s just - I’m not used to talking about this. Ever. Hardly anyone even knows. How did you guess?’

‘Oh - I’ve come across a bite like that before, that’s all,’ Sirius says amiably, his fingers still trailing over Remus’ skin. ‘They just took wolfsbane every month. Is that what you do?’

There’s no _just_ about it, Remus thinks grimly. ‘Something like that.’

Sirius raises a curious eyebrow. ‘Not that big a deal, is it?’

Remus laughs bitterly. ‘In my profession? I’m a walking bloodborne pathogen, aren’t I? People would be horrified if they knew. No matter how stringent I am about all the right precautions… I’d have to pack it in for good.’ He knocks back some more beer. ‘Anyway, you want to be able to trust the person who is going to mark your skin. No one trusts a werewolf.’

Tilting his head, Sirius looks at him thoughtfully. ‘I do,’ he says simply. ‘Though you probably shouldn’t go round telling people.’ With a teasing smile, he leans in for a kiss. His hand drifts down Remus’ stomach to his crotch, fondling his balls a little, tugging on his semi. He grins when Remus’ cock twitches in response. 

They down the rest of the beer and go for another round. This time, Sirius ends up on his back, his knees drawn up to his chest as Remus fucks him. Shagging this beautiful man feels incredible, and Remus tries to make it last, going deep, slow, and hard. Sirius pants and moans with delight, pulling Remus’ hair, squeezing Remus’ bum, demanding more. 

When it’s all over, Remus doesn’t pull out straight away. He goes along with more kissing, returning Sirius’ affectionate touches. When they finally come apart, they collapse in a loose embrace.

Remus comes to a while later. Next to him Sirius sleepily shifts and stretches his limbs. Blinking, Remus sits up rapidly, suddenly feeling self conscious. 

Turning to face him, Sirius gives him a beaming smile, and announces, ‘Now for some food! I did promise you supper. You must be starving.’ 

Remus takes a shower in the spacious bathroom - all black marble and gold fittings. Sirius’ uncle must’ve had a taste for luxury. By contrast, there isn’t much in the way of toiletries, but Remus likes the smell of Sirius’ soap, and is intrigued by the bottle of exotic aftershave.

When he emerges, refreshed and slightly terrified of what lies ahead, he discovers a veritable feast laid out on the polished dining table. The boards and platters are loaded with smoked and roasted vegetables, various hard and soft cheeses, a selection of fancy charcuterie, along with crusty bread, olives, figs, and nuts. 

Arriving with wine glasses, Sirius grins at him fondly. ‘Please help yourself to anything! I’ll just go and freshen up, too.’ He kisses Remus’ throat. ‘Won’t be a minute!’


	3. Chapter 3

‘Are we allowed wine?’ Sirius asks, brandishing a corkscrew. ‘This is a really good bottle.’

Fuck it, Remus thinks. Extraordinary circumstances. ‘Sure,’ he says with enthusiasm.

They chat amiably as they tuck in. Remus remains vague about where he disappeared to the other day, blaming nebulous business matters. Savouring the delicious food and the first glass of excellent wine, he gets Sirius to tell him about a sailor’s life, laughing at his hilarious account of various adventures ashore and at sea. Agreeing to a second glass of wine, Remus lets go a little. Only slightly, but he’s actually loosening the fierce grip of his self control. And why not, he thinks. None of this is going to matter in the morning. 

Sirius is very easy to talk to. As it turns out, he spent his early childhood in Kenya, then went to Beauxbatons. Asked why he’s chosen to slum it on commercial vessels rather than going to university, he refers to his estranged family, only in passing. 

Eventually, they discuss the tattoo. Remus takes pride in his work, no matter the nature of the job. And he’s put in quite a bit of work for this one – even if Sirius won’t be able to enjoy it for very long. Since Sirius wanted the burly Merman to wrangle the fearsome Shrake, Remus explains his ideas of how the movement could work. Sirius nods enthusiastically, and cracks lewd jokes about the way they might move together, bodies entwined… ‘Could be a nice reminder of this evening.’ 

‘Oh yeah?’ Remus grins. ‘Which one are you?’

‘The Shrake, of course,’ Sirius says. ‘Leading the poor merman astray.’

Remus’ grin suddenly feels forced. He swallows hard. 

‘Bet I’m not the first one to have led you astray,’ Sirius ponders casually. ‘Do you shag many of your clients then?’

‘Not usually! Not anymore.’ 

‘What’s changed?’

‘I dunno. An increased sense of professionalism? Or maybe I just haven’t had that many tempting offers.’

‘Right,’ Sirius grins, not a little smug. ‘What’s your clientele like, generally? Fairly colourful, I imagine. D’you get much in the way of local lowlifes?’ 

‘Well… as soon as Marlene’s work became more well known, the shop started attracting a different sort of client. We still get people from all walks of life, but these days the majority tend to be professionals, and Ministry types… so unfortunately,’ he adds lightly, ‘barely any hot young reprobates to corrupt me.’ He knocks back some more wine. 

Sirius is eating olives. ‘Reprobates,’ he says thoughtfully, licking his fingers. ‘That’s your thing, is it?’ His mischievous grey eyes smoulder and linger. 

Remus clears his throat. ‘Well… I suppose you might be a career criminal, for all I know…?’

Sirius laughs out loud. ‘If only,’ he says dreamily, contemplating his wine. He really is ridiculously handsome. ‘I reckon I’d make a good bank robber. Make those goblins at Gringott’s sit up and take notice. But as it happens, I’ve got all the dosh I need. No need to venture into the criminal underworld just yet.’ 

‘Lucky you,’ Remus says quietly. ‘Excuse me a minute.’

He escapes to the bathroom. It’s all too much. Splashing his face with cold water, he silently scolds himself in the mirror. Get it together! Keep your bloody cool! His reflection is looking very pale, almost drawn. What’s this bloke pretending to see in him? If he’s to go through with this, he’ll need to get on with it. Next door, Sirius has put a new record on.

Remus stops in the kitchen for a glass of water, and spots a half empty bottle of whisky up on a high shelf. _Help yourself to anything,_ Sirius said. Reaching for the bottle, Remus takes a couple of long slugs. Just to steady himself, take the edge off.

‘Are you all right?’ Sirius calls from the other room. 

‘Yeah!’ Remus quickly replaces the bottle. ‘Coming.’

‘You know, speaking of unsavoury characters,’ Sirius continues casually, ‘I’ve been wondering, if you’ve come across a certain bloke, name of Jugson? Marmaduke Jugson. Local hoodlum, by all accounts. Ever met him?’

Remus stares at him. ‘Yeah, I have,’ he says without meaning to. ‘Wh-why do you ask?’

‘Nothing important. I need to talk to him about something, been trying to track him down. D’you happen to know where I could find him?’ 

‘I doubt he’d do much talking to you,’ Remus says out loud, surprising himself. His mouth seems to have developed a mind of its own. 

‘Oh yeah?’ Sirius asks lightly. ‘Why wouldn’t he?’

‘For one thing, he’s dead.’ Panicked, Remus clamps his mouth shut.

‘Dead?’ Sirius looks shocked. ‘Are you sure? How do you know?’

Remus swallows hard. ‘I’m sure,’ he says, unable to rein in the words running out of him, ‘because - I know how it happened,’ he manages to divert them, his heart thumping in his chest. 

‘How?’ Sirius asks again, leaning forward, watching him closely. ‘You didn’t actually see it happen, did you?’

‘Not exactly.’ Remus struggles for air, feeling queasy. This has got to stop. Before the other man can ask anything else, Remus draws his wand, pointing it straight at him. ‘Who the fuck are you? This is Veritaserum, isn’t it? What do you want?’

Sirius gasps. ‘What? No!’ He holds up his hands, eyes darting between Remus’ face and the tip of his wand. ‘I never – what are you on about?’ 

When Remus doesn’t move a muscle, Sirius curses. ‘All right, I might’ve thought about it, originally, long before we…’ 

‘Where is it, then?’ Remus demands, stabbing his wand at the man. ‘The serum, what did you put it in?’ 

Sirius blinks. ‘There’s some in a bottle of whisky in the kitchen.’ 

Getting a sense the man might be about to flex his own wand hand, Remus Stuns him on the spot. Then he flicks his wand again. _‘Accio Veritaserum!’_

It really is the whisky bottle hurtling in from the kitchen. Deftly catching it, he stomps over to where Sirius is lolling in his chair. Remus’ head is pounding fiercely, his whole body jittering. He bloody should’ve known! He manipulates Sirius’ lips apart and pours a decent slug down his throat.

‘There,’ he says, slapping Sirius’ chiselled cheeks in order to rouse him. 

When Sirius opens his eyes, his dazed expression changes from delighted surprise to shock as he remembers. _’Expelliarmus!_ ’ he hisses, catching Remus’ wand. They stare at each other for a long moment, in a strange standoff. Then Sirius drops Remus’ wand onto the dinner table next to his plate.

‘I gave you a taste of your own medicine.’ Remus scoffs, sitting back down. ‘Enjoy. Now we can have that little chat you wanted. When exactly were you planning to get the whisky out?’

Sirius gives him a dark look. ‘I wasn’t going to. No one ever warn you about swigging from random bottles?’ 

‘I knew this was too good to be true.’ Remus shakes his head, still feeling nauseous. ‘Who are you, really?’ he demands fiercely. ‘Who’s sent you?’

‘Exactly who I said I was. Sirius Black. A minor engineer in the merchant navy. No one’s sent me.’ 

‘And what do you want from me?’

‘From you?’ Sirius shrugs, somewhat perplexed. ‘Honestly? I want to get to know you. And shag you again, too. Lots.’

Remus clears his throat. ‘What was all that about Jugson?’

‘I - need some information about him. I thought you might know something… You did say people tell you things. And since you’ve worked on him only recently–’

‘Who told you that?’ Remus’ voice has dropped to a harsh whisper. 

‘I saw the tattoo.’ Sirius says simply. ‘A sabretooth on his arm, freshly done, the bandage barely off. He was showing it off, down the Coffin Nail in Knockturn Alley.’ He shoots Remus a look. ‘I could tell straight away that it was one of yours. Bald bloke with a fat neck, smoking a cigar – that’s him, isn’t it? Heard his pal calling him across the bar, that’s how I know his name.’

‘Why are you interested in him?’

‘Because,’ Sirius makes a face, ‘I’d seen him before. Recognised him immediately.’ He exhales sharply, rubbing the back of his neck. ‘I’d seen him attack someone. Him and two others, late at night, in the Limehouse docks. When I realised, I tried to help, but…’ his voice falters. ‘It was cold blooded murder.’ 

‘Bloody hell…’ Remus feels a bit faint.

‘I called the police, and alerted the Auror office… but I was too late. If only I’d realised sooner, acted sooner! It’s been going round and round in my head, giving me nightmares… And then there the bloke was,’ says Sirius fiercely, lifting his gaze to meet Remus. ‘Bold as brass, in broad daylight! Showing off your handiwork. Nothing much I could do about him there, what with all his thugs about. So I’ve tried tracking him down, without success. No one’s seen him since. It’s as though he’s vanished.’

‘Right.’ Remus nods darkly. ‘So you sought me out to help you find him. And this whole thing,’ he indicates the two of them, ‘was what, a ruse to get me on side? Lure me in with a quick shag, and then slip me some Veritaserum?’ 

‘Not at all!’ Sirius protests, scowling now. ‘I’ve wanted a piece of your work for ages. I was hoping you’d help me find Jugson, too. Two birds with one stone, if anything. But until I actually met you, I had no idea that I’d fancy you, let alone that you and I would end up-’ 

Remus scoffs bitterly. ‘That night you saw the fight,’ he demands, ‘what exactly happened?’

Sirius drains his wine glass, refills it, and gulps down some more. He tops up Remus’ glass, too - not that Remus feels much like drinking. Then Sirius takes a deep breath. ‘It doesn’t sound real now,’ he says in a low voice. ‘Must’ve been about two o’clock in the morning. I was there randomly, didn’t know the area very well. Left someone’s house and was going to Apparate back here - but I enjoyed stretching my legs. When I first saw them I thought it was just a scuffle, you know, pissed people, play fighting. By the time I caught on,’ his voice drops even lower, ‘it was too late. She’d gone in the river. She didn’t even cry out, they must’ve…’

‘A woman?’ Remus asks sharply. ‘They actually killed her?’

‘They were really quick about it. Almost casual. Threw her in the water to make it look like a drowning. My curses didn’t even hit them, they were so fast. I think I managed to Stupefy one of them, then they were gone.’

Staring, Remus leans forward. ‘A _drowning?_ In Limehouse? When was this, about six weeks ago?’ He can’t believe this. 

‘Yeah, about that,’ Sirius nods, swallowing hard. ‘I got her out, of course, tried to revive her, but she was – but it was too late.’ Sirius hangs his head. ‘If only I’d got there sooner, if I’d noticed them earlier, I would’ve had a chance to stop them...’

‘What did she look like?’ Remus interrupts impatiently. ‘Blonde? Wavy hair?’

‘Yeah.’ Sirius says, perplexed. ‘She was blonde. Fairly tall, I think. Pretty. Red jacket over a green dress.’ He shakes his head miserably. ‘I alerted the authorities, but didn’t exactly hang around – was sort of absent without leave that night.’ 

Remus swallows hard. ‘Marlene was blonde,’ he says softly. ‘Very pretty. They never found the jacket.’

They stare at each other. 

‘Fuck,’ Sirius says succinctly.

‘Yeah,’ Remus agrees, his voice rough, his heartbeat thumping in his throat. He gulps down some wine. ‘If one of them was Jugson, who were the other two?’ 

‘One of them might’ve been called Travers, I think? And someone mentioned a Macnair… The plan was that I’d get it all out of Jugson.’

‘Right.’ Remus closes his eyes for a moment. 

‘Remus, I’m so sorry,’ Sirius begins, but Remus shakes his head and makes a dismissive gesture.

He understands with overwhelming clarity what he’s going to do next. ‘Sirius, listen to me. We’re going to get these bastards. But we haven’t got very much time. And before we do anything else, we’ll need some extra protection.’ Getting up slowly, he reaches for the whisky bottle and takes another swig. ‘This is so you’ll know I’ll keep telling the truth.’ 

Sirius narrows his eyes at him. ‘What sort of protection?’ He takes the bottle and knocks back some more of the stuff, too. 

‘It’s at my flat.’ Remus holds out his hand. ‘Come with me? We won’t be long.’

Nodding briskly, Sirius passes Remus his wand. Then he grasps Remus’ hand. ‘Let’s go.’

**Author's Note:**

> A big thank you to nachodiablo for devising & letting me borrow the brilliant _Kissing Inferi!_


End file.
